With Regards to my Friends
by Karg42
Summary: One year before Naruto would have become a Genin, he runs into a girl that few know. Even YOU [might] know her! After she kills off her entire family, she and Naruto flee Konoha to find allies and seek revenge. [No major OC's] [Naruto X female]
1. In Which We Take Our First Look

Okay, first of all, school ended about nine days ago for me. I started writing again about seven days ago. I _was_ working on The Unsealed Path when I discovered something: I have no flipping idea how I want to do the Wave Arc! What the heck?! Anyways, I decided to work on this little story while I am puzzling this out. Read, enjoy, review, preferably in that order. Don't review if you haven't read it. Don't enjoy it if you haven't read it. Sound easy enough?

Also, I am holding a little contest, shall we say? The first person who can post a list of the charaters in this chapter (in order of scene appearence) can ask any question about either of my fics. And no, answers like "That one guy with the hair" won't count; I'm looking for names. people.

Right, and I don't own Naruto or anything else I might reference. Yet.

* * *

A young man awakes. With a large yawn, he steps out of bed. He makes his way to the kitchen in only his boxers and a loose T-shirt, his hat having fallen off back in bed. He rubs his belly the whole way. As he reaches the kitchen, he reaches for the fridge handle. The man has yet to open his eyes, so it takes a few attempts to get a firm grip on it. Tugging gently, the young man pulled the door open. The light was blinding, forcing the young man to squint his eyes despite the fact that they were shut tight. He opens his eyes slowly, revealing a tired blue color. The young man grabs a carton of milk and backs away, almost forgetting to close the door. Perhaps we are using the phrase "young man" too easily. The person we see here can be no older then eleven or twelve years old. We will, however, continue to call this boy, who has milk dribbling down onto his shirt, a young man. We will do this not because of his height or his age, but rather because of his lifestyle.

No mere boy could live in an apartment by himself. Only a young man could be expected to do that. No mere boy could train to become a killer. Only a young man could be expected to do that. No mere boy could put up with hateful glares directed at his person for their entire life. Only a young man could be expected to do that. No mere boy could live without positive human contact for months at a time. Only a young man could be expected to do that. No mere boy would still be alive. Living required becoming a young man.

And so, we turn our attentions back to this young man. He has finished his milk and is getting dressed. We see him discard his white sleep shirt in exchange for a black one. He also sticks his legs through holes in a rather large piece of orange fabric. Closer examination shows us that this piece of fabric is indeed a pair of pants. A similar piece of orange cloth makes its way over the black shirt. Again, careful inspection shows it to by something like a coat or a jacket. Perhaps it is even a wind breaker. If asked, the young man would probably say it was the future Hokage dress code, but that is not of our concern.

A few perceptive readers may be wondering why we are watching this boy, pardon me, I mean young man, perform such seemingly standard tasks. Why does it matter to us? Quite simply, it does not. It matters to us not if this young man puts on his pants before his jacket, or if he pours himself milk or if he drinks it from the carton. No, what matters to us is what happens to this young man over time.

You may have guessed by now that this is a very special young man. What makes him special he does not know, for there are laws forbidding it from being spoken. While it is arguable whether or not this is a good law, it is a rather effective one. The few who did choose to breach its confinement were sentenced to maniacal punishment. The side-effect of this was that a special boy grew up not knowing who he was, or what he was capable of. The many who despised the boy for what made him special made it quite clear. The beatings he took, both verbal and physical, served to mold the boy into the young man we see here today.

Speaking of the young man, we must hurry to catch up with him. He has left his apartment and is moving towards his school. This school is another thing that makes this young man special, for this is no normal school. In this school, rather than teach you your ABCs and your 123s they teach how throw tiny blades and perform unnatural displays of power using one's life-force. This life-force, called chakara, is one of the main tools of shinobi, or ninja. The young man we have been following is a shinobi in-training. Given time, he may even become one. This is the other thing that makes him special. He plans not only on becoming a shinobi, but to become the greatest in his whole village. His dream is to become the Hokage, the leader and strongest shinobi in the village.

If his teachers have any say, that dream will never come to pass. He has failed the capability test required to become a shinobi twice already. Today will be his third attempt. Should he fail again, then he is required to spend another year in class before he can try again. The young man we have been following is filled with anxiety. He rubs his hands together until he notices he is doing so, and then stuffs them into his pockets. A weak smile is plastered on his face. He knows the odds are against him. The last two years the test to become a genin, a low ranking ninja, had consisted of Bunshin no Jutsu, a ninja technique that uses chakara to create multiple illusions of one self. This just so happened to be the young mans worst jutsu. No matter how hard he tried or how hard he practiced, he simply could not control his chakara enough to use the simple technique. His other classmates could do it; he was the only one not capable.

He shrugged such thoughts off. There was no way they would use the same jutsu three times in a row. Why would they do that?

That day at school he was unable to create at least three bunshins, clones, and failed the test.

* * *

Yes, our hero has failed yet again. We could continue to follow him and watch him sulk. We could watch him go back into his room and slam the door. We could watch him throw his shuriken, or ninja stars, at the wall. We could even watch him crawl into bed to sleep in the middle of the day. We, however, have someone else to look at. 

Who else shall we watch? To where should we turn our eyes? I could show you many things. For example, I can show you the young girl fighting with her younger sister. We can see that the elder girl is pulling back her thrust in order to prevent hurting her younger sibling. It leads to her defeat, however, as the younger girl takes advantage of her elder sister's gentleness and goes for the winning thrust. We can also see an elderly man shaking his head off to the side.

Shall we leave these family matters alone? Let us now go to the sunny hills. There we see another young boy, sprawled out on his back. We can see him staring up at the clouds. We can only wonder what it is he is thinking. He does appear to be relaxed, enjoying himself even. Next to him sits another young boy, this one eating a bag of chips. Both appear to be at ease with the world, completely serene.

If we go to a large stone found near one of the village's training grounds we will find a full grown man. He is standing in front of the stone, mind wandering. The man is thinking of times long gone, what he could have done, what he should have done, and what really happened. Dwelling on such thoughts is unhealthy and he knows it, but he dwells none the less. Some things hurt too much to think rationally.

If we look near the edge of the village we will see an abandon estate. In front of said estate is a young man, again around the age of the other young man we watched this morning. This young man is throwing kunai, small throwing blades, at multiple targets, trying to hit several at once. He still has a long way to go. The young man doesn't give up he refuses to be bested. Rage fuels his throws as he tries again. He has long since lost count of his attempts.

Going back into the village we will stop by a flower shop. Inside is a young girl, thinking about how she will proclaim her love for the boy of her dreams. She can already see the white dress she will wear and hear the wedding bells ringing. As she helps another costumer find a nice bouquet for his wife, she thinks of the happy life they will live together.

In the residential district we will see another young girl with similar thoughts. This girl just so happens to be the rival of the last girl we visited. Coincidentally, she was also her best friend at one point or another. In a way, it's funny how time changes things.

Moving off to a small estate there is a boy and his dog. The small fuzz ball jumps his master and the boy happily tucks the dog into the hood of his jacket. Neither of them have a care in the world. They sit back as they watch the young boy's older sister train. The young woman and her canine partners move in intricate patterns and the younger pair looks on in awe. They can only hope to become as good as their older counterparts and plan to practice 'till they achieve such a level.

Off in the woods we see another young boy. He is examining trees, flowers, and other plants. In his hand is a netted cage meant to hold insects and other such bugs. Several paces behind the boy is his father. The man is pointing out plants that commonly hold the bugs that the pair is looking for. The boy takes his schooling well and is quick to learn and notice small details. If we knew this boy well, we could tell that pride was pouring off his body. To anyone else his expression is one of complacence.

Here we see another odd duo. A young girl slings several pointy objects towards her friend who is seated comfortably, back to a tree. The pointed objects embed themselves in the tree behind the boy, making a nice outline of his head. As the girl smiles at her accomplishment, the boy appears to be concentrating, or perhaps counting. If we could see into his mind we might see several birds flying around, but alas, we cannot

I can show you an old man sitting in a poorly lit room. He is gazing into a crystal ball placed on a soft red cushion. The image in the ball is changing. Its gaze follows a man with a cigarette in his mouth. He is sitting on the dojo floor, speaking with a red-eyed woman. The old man removes the pipe his is smoking from his mouth and sighs. When a man looks at his son he sees everything that was once in himself. He is not sure if that is a good thing. He lived a life filled with regrets, the old man. Being the necessary tool of evil for the greater good can leave unforgettable scars on a man's life.

* * *

Follow, if you will, the sounds of passionate yelling. We will find two figures hugging. One of these odd creatures appears to be a full grown man. He is wearing a green jumpsuit and vest. Wrapped in his arms is a boy, one who might also be considered a young man. He is wearing a jumpsuit similar to the elder man. Both of these strange things have rich black hair shaped like a bowl on their heads. Should we come closer and hear what they are saying? Perhaps we should. Yes, let us fly closer and listen to them speak. 

"You can become powerful! I will help you find your inner youthfulness and through hard work, you can become a taijutsu master! The power of youth burns brightly in you!"

"Sensei, I can do it with your guidance! With your help, I will find the youth that burns within me! I will prove to all that I can be a strong shinobi even though I can't use ninjutsu or genjutsu! I will become the strongest, even more so than my eternal rival!"

They proceeded to yell each others names several times.

While we could continue to observe this strange pair, let us instead shift our eyes over to the side. There we will see a young girl, perhaps the age of the recently failed young man. The girl's eyes light up at the pair's words. She has heard both his dreams as well as his limitations. This had been worth seeing for her. This boy was an embodiment of how she felt. She would have to mention this to her sensei, that is, her teacher. Careful not to run so fast as to injure herself, the girl made her way back to the training dojo that her sensei was waiting at. She walked briskly and full of hope.

* * *

On our fantastic ride around the village we have seen many things. We have seen hope and despair, drive and idleness, friendship and rivalry. We could continue watching until the world ends, seeing every detail of everything. We shall not, though. Instead, we will move forward. There is nothing left to see here, so we will move forward. We will move to tomorrow, a tomorrow where the young man we followed so closely thing is back to his usual self with the stress of the test way behind him. We will move to a tomorrow where an elder sister aids her young sibling with making breakfast, where a relaxed boy is speaking with is feasting friend. A future where hope and depression reign in equal measure. We will skip to the future. 


	2. In Which Heros Train

This is going to be the only quick update. Expect future ones to come at a very slow rate. For thos of you who read the first chapter and went "WTF?," I hope this will apease you a bit. Expect character building in the next chapter and the pot in the story after. I mean plot. No drugs involved.

Also, who can name the girl yet? I've got money with a friend that says no one gets it 'till I give the characters names.

* * *

Welcome to a new day. The sun is shining, the air is sweet, a breeze is blowing, and the grass is glistening. Who should we watch on this fine day? Why, who else but our favorite young man. We see him now, waking to the sounds of an obnoxiously loud alarm clock. With an amazing display of strength the young man doesn't destroy the blaring machine. He stops the hammer and begins to move towards his kitchen. There is no rush today. There won't be any class for another two months. That meant he had around sixty days to train and become stronger. He was going to accomplish his dream; failing wasn't even an option. No, it was merely a matter of long it would take. Patience was a virtue, one that he happened to lack. Tediousness, however, he had down to an art form.

Again, shall we skip forward in time? I have no desire to watch the boy spend an hour getting ready for his day. We need not to see him eat, bathe, change, brush, and relive himself. Instead we see the young man drabbed in his orange getup again, making his way for the front door. He is planning on visiting a nearby training area, one that is seldom used by teams. This is normal for him. He tries to send a few blades through the air and prays that they embed themselves into trees. Accuracy wasn't a strong point for the young man, so he instead goes for quantity. He can throw around a dozen pointy objects and at least two will hit their target.

He then tries to work on his almost nonexistent taijutsu. His disgruntled style is more suited for a drunk out on the street than for a shinobi in-training. There was little he could do, however, having no one to practice with and no one willing to teach him. There is only so much to be gained by kicking a log. After he reaches fifty punches with each hand and fifty kicks with each leg he plans to move on to his jutsus.

Now this was the part that the young man loves. Of the few jutsus he knew, two he can perform to near perfection. We watch as the young man disappears in a puff of smoke and in his place there is a naked young woman. Clouds of smoke protect her decency, but only barely. We are seeing this girl for the first time and continue to look as the girl strikes a few suggestive posses. The girl disappears in a puff of smoke and reveals the young man again, now with a sly smile on his face. That was his Oiroke no Jutsu, a variant of the Henge no Jutsu. The Henge no Jutsu transforms the user into anything the user sees. The young man we have been following has perfected this technique to be able to transform into anything he chooses, usually a nude female. A mixed blessing for his teachers to say the least.

In another puff of smoke, the young man disappears and reveals a log. The young man is now hiding where the log was by use of the Kawarimi no Jutsu, a body replacement technique that switches the user with something of near equal mass and volume, usually at least half and at most double. The young man is proficient at this skill, but is by no means a master.

The young man now has two jutsus to practice, neither of which he likes. There is the Nawanuke no Jutsu, or rope escape technique, and the Bunshin no Jutsu. Because the young man couldn't really tie himself up he was forced to practice his bunshins. We can watch all we want, nothing is going to change. Each time the young man will form the needed hand seals to perform the technique and each time he will gather the needed chakara and each time he will yell out the techniques name and each time a single sickly clone will appear next to the young man. It was kind of sad in a way, much like watching a starving dog gnaw on a rubber bone.

* * *

Shall we leave this young man and let him run his course for the moment? I believe we shall. Again we take to the sky and the birds eye view of things. We are looking for familiar faces. Shall we look at the man standing before the inscribed stone? How about the young girl helping her mother clip flowers? Or maybe the young man who's voice we had heard along with his sensei? Instead we see a young girl with a face we've seen. Should we zoom in for a closer look?

Now that we can see her, would you like to know what she looks like? Of course you would. If we look closely, which is the only way worth looking, we can see two small yellow balls attached to a hair clip in her long, brown hair. The hair cascading down the left side of her head is held together with a yellow ponytail. The right side hangs freely. Across her forehead is a blank piece of metal attached to a blue headband. Moving down we see a pair of eyes, colored with a mix of hazel and honey brown. Moving even further down, the girl appears to be wearing several shirts, the one closest to her skin being an off-white color, moving on to a dirty yellow and finally a purplish blue. This final and oddly colored shit covers her entire right arm while her left is cut off before her elbow, revealing the slightest bit of fish netting.

Should we look lower on her person? If she were able to see us, she might think us indecent. Let our eyes fall lower anyways. Holding her shirts closed is a pink sash around her entire midriff. She also appears to be wearing a slitted blue skirt, slightly lighter than her shirt. The skirt cuts off a few inches before her knees, again revealing a good inch of fish netting traveling down her legs. She is bare from here to her feet, which are clad in a pair of brown sandals that cover her ankles.

I have left out the most important part of her appearance, though. What might it be? I could tell you, but that would destroy the fun. Maybe when she meets someone whom we know they will be kind enough to tell you, as I will not. I will tell you, however, that this girl is going back to the dojo at which she practices. Her sensei is waiting. It would not do to be late.

* * *

Exhausted and crestfallen, our favorite young man trudges home. He has failed to make a single able bodied bunshin. His eyes are drooped and his feet drag across the ground. Failure can be rather disheartening. We watch as he makes his way to his favorite part of the city: The ramen stand. The very thought of a nice, warm bowl of sweet-smelling, soupy ramen raises the young man's spirits considerably. There are few things that a meal loaded with fats and a few smiling faces can't cure.

As has been his practice for the longest time, the young man hides any trace of tiredness or exhaustion from all those around him. He had long since learned that showing weakness made enemies feel stronger, perhaps strong enough to remove their enemy. It also did no good for his few friends to see him tired. The two that he had would fuss over him and make him more than uncomfortable. He loves the spotlight, to be sure, but having his temperature checked with the back of a hand gets tiring after a few dozen times.

He quickly turns into a little ball of sunshine, smiling constantly and positively beaming at anyone who looks at the young man with the slightest bit of contempt. So long as a single person did not step forward to start the attack no one would dare lay a finger on the boy. To be part of a mob is one thing; to initiate one is something else completely. With none to oppose him, the young man makes his way to his favorite ramen stand: Ichiraku's.

He works his way to the ramen stand while dodging any blocks that he knows inhabit some of the few that will fight him without regard for their own safety. We al know that it's best to avoid such people. The stand is before our very eyes and the young man hops onto the closest barstool. He is greeted by a young women's smiling face and a cheerful greeting for the kitchen in back. Grinning to himself, the young man places his order.

* * *

Duck, bob, dart, jump, twist, throw. We see how the girl tries to out-maneuver her opponent. The women she faces easily pulls the blades from the air and flings them back at their owner. The girl's eyes widen and she falls over backwards to prevent any serious damage. Before she is able to arise a sharp blade is pressed against her throat. We can see the girl's body go limp as she admits surrender.

"Again." Her opponent speaks as the blade is removed from her neck and the girl is allowed to stand. As she readies herself the sun catches off of her forehead. It glistens, showing the thin layer of perspiration pouring down her face. We can hear the girl panting and can we can see that her stance is weak, her back slouched and legs shaking. It is clear that she is tired and is on the brink of exhaustion.

She charges her opponent without warning. There is a kunai in her closed fist, clearly ready to be used as a blade rather than a projectile. Her empty hand presses against the ground and allows the girl to leap over her opponent and land behind her opponent's back. Without another moments thought, the young girl drives her blade into the small of the back on her opponent. Her target then disappears in a cloud of smoke and reveals a potted plant. To be more specific, the potted plant that was in the corner of the dojo only a moment before had suddenly replaced her opponent.

Suddenly, the young girl's eyes begin to empty. She falls to the floor, oblivious to the world around her. Her opponent quickly rushes over to the fallen girl and props her up against a wall. Her opponent kneels beside the collapsed girl and reaches for one of the smelling salts on their persons, placing it just a little below the fallen girl's nose. Life enters the girl's eyes again. As she gathers her senses, we notice that she seems embarrassed by her current condition. The girl looks at her opponent sheepishly. Her opponent looks at the girl crossly.

"I told you not to push yourself. If this was too much for you to take you should have said something. I don't want you to end up dead." The girl's opponent speaks firmly and without pity. The girl forfeited any right to pity when she did something as foolish as pushing herself past her limits. The girl against the wall has the good grace to blush.

"I apologize, sensei. I thought I could go longer, but I can see now that I was overconfident." The girl speaks in a soft, quite voice, barely able to be heard. If the girl was any meeker she would probably be confused with the furniture. It seems as if the girl is able to shrink into herself. In a way she does as she pulls her legs in and wraps her arms around them, pulling them even closer. Her opponent, now known as her sensei, sighs. The girl sees her opponent's head drops as words begin to come from her sensei's mouth.

"Just go home and rest. And make sure this doesn't happen again." The girl's sensei stands, allowing the girl to stand. She does so, shame clearly evident on her face. The girl didn't want to disappoint, but it seems as if that is all she can do. Tears fall silently from her face as the girl makes her way home.

* * *

It is getting dark. We need to stick closer to our favorite young man if we don't wish to lose him. He is radiating with happiness as he does every time he comes home from Ichiraku's. Few things are able to raise the young man's spirits as a trip to the only two people in the village that care about him. To be fare, the Hokage came by sometimes, but the young man believed this to be more out of duty than actual concern. After all, a Hokage was supposed to treat everyone in his village with love and compassion, or something along those lines. Maybe skipping school so often did have negative repercussions. Oh well, there is no use in thinking about that now.

We see the young man enter his home to go to sleep. We wait outside his door for him to exit. Expect to wait several hours as the young man enjoys sleeping in and has no appointments for tomorrow. So we will wait, and wait, and wait. At around eight in the morning an orange blur sprints out the doorway and down the hall. We have to race to catch up with it and finally see it stop in the same training area as the day before. The young man prepares his training regiment again.

Today will be the boy's fifth day following this routine and the young man is, quite honestly, getting restless. I have not yet told you of the boy's mischievous side, but now you are warned that it is a rather large part of the young man we see before us. To be frank, the young man despises repetition with a passion. Some of the first years of his life involved a rather unpleasant cycle that he was forced to follow and he has since detested any form of organized recurrence. To combat this distaste, the young man has broken as many daily routines as possible. While in school, he skipped random days and sometimes left in the middle of class. He never did his homework in the same place and never at the same time as the day before. He always slept in odd positions and rearranged his fridge every night so he would have to consciously dig through to find the food he wanted.

It is easy to guess that the young man's training pattern is beginning to frustrate him. Sure, he could change the order, but the spirit of the thing is still there. Today is going to take a break, but first he must think of what he plans to do instead. This training ground is one of the places he comes to think. The other two places are down by a river just outside the residential area of the village and on top of the fourth Hokage's head. No, it's not what it sounds like. One of the most disgusting features of the village is the set of four giant heads carved into the side of a cliff at the village's back. Each head belonged to a Hokage. They were and are the village's leaders. Of the four village leaders, there is only one still alive. This would be the third, or Sandaime. The first, second, and fourth have all passed away. Of the four, the fourth was arguably the strongest Hokage. It is atop the carving of this man's head that our young man sits to think.

If we had been watching the young man, we would have seen that he had already made his way to the top of the man's head. He is sprawled out on the ground, arms and legs stretched as far apart as possible. With a large yawn, the young man lets his head fall to the ground with a soft thud. There is no one anywhere near this secluded area. No one to throw cold glares, no one to spit at him, no one to yell strange obscenities at him, no one to hit him, and no one to simply pretend he doesn't exist. This was paradise. If left to his own devices the young man would live here, never coming down unless it was to visit Ichiraku's. That would be the life.

He would never be aloud to live on the precious monument though. So instead he lived in a worn down apartment with a leaky sink and rotten floor boards. Ahh, the life he lived. The eleven-year-old young man doesn't dwell on this and instead thinks of how perfect this one moment is, of how peaceful it is just to lay on his back on the soft grass and look up to the sky and watch the birds scatter and the rain clouds move.

Rain clouds.

Crap.

We hear a crack of thunder and see a flash of lightning. The world seems to stop for a moment. Then the world comes crashing around our heads. The rain doesn't fall; it pours. The thunder doesn't crack; it booms. The lightning doesn't flash; it blazes. The young man sprints to get out of the rain that is dumping loads onto his head. Raising his arms in a futile attempt to shield himself, the young man runs. His home is across the village and Ichiraku's isn't any closer. He either had to find a new shelter or allow himself to get soaked. Great options.

The young man is dashing aimlessly and we are right behind him. His jacket is being weighed down with water and the young man decides to discard it, knowing he could come back for it later. Why would someone be walking the streets to even be able to find it? With a quick zip the orange jacket is tossed over his shoulder and out of our story. It may reappear, or it may not. As it is, the young man is running down the street with a damp, black T-shirt and a pair of soaked pants. The water had even soaked down to his boxers, causing it to become rather uncomfortable to run.

Seeing an open dojo, the young man hurries inside.

* * *

A young girl is running away from her home. No, she is not running away. It just so happens that this girl is caught up in the same storm as the young man was. She knew she shouldn't be out in the rain; she could catch pneumonia and die, or perhaps something close to that. Chances are that her sensei hadn't even bothered to show up, not expecting the young girl to show up for her lessons. To be honest, the young girl wouldn't be going if the dojo wasn't closer than her house. She had walked over half the distance now; it would be foolish to run back. She would wait in the dojo until the rain let up and then she would go home. We watch her back as she runs for her training dojo.

The young girl should be thankful for her clothing. Her several shirts, though thin, are enough to protect her decency. That's good, because the water is falling faster than the stock market on Black Friday. Okay, that was a bad metaphor. The point is that no one could take three steps out their door without being assaulted with water and left wringing a small stream from their clothing. The young girl we are following has taken more than a few steps. Several blocks is more like it.

One arm is held above her eyes in an attempt to shield them from the downpour. This is met with limited success as the young girl can see if she squints her eyes. Regardless, the young girl is very much running blindly, so it is no surprise when she slips and falls. Her legs are thrown out in front of her, trapped in some oddly colored piece of fabric, and falls on her butt right in the middle of a puddle. With frustrated movements, the young girl pulls the material from her feet and then stands. She takes a few moments to examine it and discovers it to be a jacket, more specifically, a soggy, worn, and discarded orange jacket. The jacket is used as an umbrella above the young girl's head as she continues to make her way to her dojo.

We are no more than a block away when the young girl has her dojo in sight. Oddly, there is a set of wet footprints leading into the building. Who would be out here at a time like this? Her sensei? The girl doubted it, but remained hopeful none the less. Her steps became bounds as she rushed forward with anticipation. She thrust open the door and was about to come inside when a pair of blue eyes stared her in the face.

"Can I help you?" she asked.


	3. In Which They Meet

Oi! Guess who's back! For those of you who have been wondering why I haven't update for a while, it's because I've been grounded. Aparently climbing a tree in your back yard and then acidently falling on top of your younger sibling is grounds for a month without electronics. In the middle of summer. Talk about harsh, I didn't even break anything on her! Tch, oh well. Well, thank ranma hibiki for beta-ing this chapter, as well as for a few comments here and there. Also, I'm wondering who I should add as a third team member for this group. I think I have a good idea of who I want it to be, and I'll probably go with that unless someone just hits me with an amazing idea. Oh, and I lied. There is one name in this chapter, but it's an alias.

Well, enjoy and review. And thank ranma hibiki for beta-ing. (still not sure if that's a word...)

* * *

"Can I help you?" the girl asked.

What in the hell is going on? We can see quite clearly that this is unexpected. The young man's face is the very definition of surprise and the young girl mirrors that face perfectly. What is this girl doing here, seeking shelter in the same place the young man did? What is this boy, for that is what she sees him as, doing here, hiding at her dojo like a common thief?

"Umm… What are you doing here?" The young man asked sheepishly. He had yet to move, surprise still keeping its hold on his body. One doesn't expect the door to a vacant building to be slammed open in the middle of a thunder storm.

"I train here. What are you doing here?" the girl answered and asked. At the risk of sounding impolite, she wanted to know. Was this some sort of test set up by her sensei? If not, then why in the hell was this boy even here? She had been training here at the same time of day for almost three months now. It was a public building, but that doesn't give him the right to break up her routine.

"Heh heh, yeah, sorry. I just came here to get out of the rain and… Wait, is that my jacket?" The young man's sapphire eyes and focused on the dripping piece of orange fabric. The girl looked up and saw that she was still holding it as a shield from the rain. And come to mention it, she was still outside. Yeah, that made a lot of sense.

"Ano… Can I come in?" If you are wondering why the girl is asking for permission to enter her own dojo, I can't help you. Rest assured that no one else can either. The young man shook his head as if it would dislodge the surprise. He quickly stepped forward and grabbed the young girl's wrist, gently pulling her inside before shutting the door.

Both students are staring at each other; the sounds of rain striking the roof were filling their ears, the fresh smell of rain entering their noses. They stand as still as statues, as if they are afraid to be the first one to act. The young man is still standing by the door in his dripping black T-shirt and orange pants, a small puddle forming at his feet. The girl still has her hands in the air, holding the orange coat like a tarp, dripping water onto her head. We see a single drip run down her nose, hanging on the tip for a moment before falling to the ground. This drop caused a soft tickling sensation that many of us are familiar with. In the girl's case, it made her sneeze, which caused her arms to shift and let go of the jacket, which meant gravity played its part and pull the jacket onto the girl's still sneezing head.

Oddly enough, this broke the stupor that the young man was in. Blinking away his surprise, he stepped forward and pulled his jacket off the girl's head. What he found was a pair of honey hazel eyes wide with surprise and embarrassment. It wasn't dignified for a future shinobi to be trapped by a wet piece of cloth. She fought her embarrassed blush down as it was trying to rise to her face, knowing it would show far too easily if it did appear.

"Ano… Thank you, I guess." We see that her head is slightly tilted down. The girl clearly doesn't want to be staring this newcomer in the face. We may assume that this is due to embarrassment. I also assume that you have heard the phrase "Assumptions make an ass out of you and me." If you have not, you are able to say otherwise from now on. Here's a hint: Ass-U-Me. Back to the two young ninjas in-training, the young man rubs the blond hair on the back of his head with a single hand while grasping his soaked coat in the other. The gesture may signify one of many things. It could be showing embarrassment from the fact that his jacket had fallen on this unknown girl, or it could be a pitiful attempt to hide fear that this unidentified female would use it as an excuse to beat the crap out of him.

"Ano… I'm sorry to have to ask this, but who exactly are you?" The girl felt like smashing her head against the nearest wall. She must sound like an idiot! The only people she was ever really around were her family, both immediate and extended, and her sensei. Other then some of the more prominent figures in Konoha, such as the Hokage and Hyuuga Hiashi, she didn't really know anyone. Her parents had every reason to be overprotective, but it still has its repercussions.

Clearly not guessing as to what was going on in the girl's head, the young man continued to grin. This was too perfect for him. Usually if someone didn't know who he was, they would try to hurt him at all. Perfect.

"I'm just a shinobi in training. Who are you?" Excellently executed. Give just enough that she should be satisfied, but not enough to know who he is personally. The young man's grin grew wider he shut his eyes, basking in the ego boost he had just given himself. Because of his now shut eyes, he had no idea that the girl's eyes grew wide. We, of course, did see it. Or at the very least, I saw it and told you. No sense in being picky about it.

"A shinobi? Really?" Her voice had grown several levels in both volume and energy. It was not the same subdued and embarrassed voice that was coming from her mouth a moment ago. No, this was laced with energy and excitement. To see a ninja her age was a spectacular event. She was the only child in her family, so seeing a ninja under twenty was a rare occurrence for her, and even then she rarely spoke with them.

The young man is clearly startled. Apparently he had said just the wrong thing. The idea was to get her to think little of him and hopefully overlook him. The spotlight was nice, but when it was on a one-on-one level, it just felt weird. And now that this girl knew he was a shinobi, she was looking at him as if he was Ayame when she was bringing out a triple order of beef ramen with a log of naruto on the side. That couldn't be good.

"Ano, yeah. I'm a student at Academy. And you are?" Just find out her name. If you can get the conversation to turn from yourself to herself, you might be safe. His logic is sound, but it matters little when the prescribed events don't take place. The girl ignored the second request for her identity as she moved closer to the future shinobi, hope and wonder flashing in her eyes.

"What's it like? How hard are the classes? What kind of things do you do? How many students are there? Are the teachers really strict? What kind of jutsus do they teach you?" An avalanche of questions poured from her mouth, and with each one she moves a little closer without truly realizing it. The young man is leaning back a little apprehensively, obviously not overjoyed with the proximity that the girl was choosing to take. The last time a girl his age was this close to him, her father beat him within an inch of his life. As he moved, the girl's questions came in one ear and out the other, not registering in the slightest. For now, He just needed his space.

"Right, I'll answer whatever you want, but can you just back up please?" At this point, if we move over to the side, we can see that the young man is leaning so far back that he risks falling and that the girl is almost matching his lean only a foot away, practically threatening to fall on top of him. As his words reach her ears, however, she seemed to remember where she was. The look of amazement leaves her eyes and the blush that was in jeopardy of striding onto her face earlier makes a clean break. Her face is painted red as she all but leaps back, stammering an apology at the speed of light. A comparison has been created, courtesy of ranma hibiki. "That is the speed of light, not to be confused with the speed of sound, which is slower, or the speed of "one who has committed a grievous error and has been found out so is now pleading for their life!!!" which is much faster then the speed of light." Thank you ranma hibiki.

"Oh Kami, I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me, because I really don't act like that usually, but when you said that you were a shinobi I got all excited and I just had all these questions that I wanted to ask and I thought you could answer and I kind of forgot that we don't know each other and"

"Okay, I get it. Slow down and breathe." Now, the young man in front of us was trained to know what to do in all sorts of situations. He knew that if he was being chased, always keep in mind that you can't run forever and try to find a place to hide. He knew to flail his leg in the event that someone is seated on his back. He knew which end of a kunai to throw at an opponent and how to hold a shuriken without cutting himself. He did not, however, know how to treat a girl with mid range hysterics. Again, a comparison created by ranma hibiki. "Not mild hysterics like "uh-oh! My older sibling just found me in their room going thru their stuff" or major hysterics like "OMFG!!! I accidentally let the dog loose who then chased after a cat who ran into a high explosive's factory that has a bunch of hidden missile's with enough force to blow up half the continent and the timer just started so now I only have 10 seconds to live!!!!"

"Okay… Let's try this one at a time. Ask one question and then I'll try to answer it. Then I'll ask a question and you try to answer it. Sound good?" We can see that the girl has stopped quaking at this point, as the young man has a hand on each of her shoulders. She is still looking at a fixed spot on the floor, as if she is ashamed to look the stranger in the face after that last display. Still, she was able to nod, if just slightly. The young man sighs with relief.

The world is in slow motion for us, or at least that is the way it seems. The young man moves ever so slowly, removing his hands from the girl's shoulders and taking a few tasteful steps back. At a similarly sluggish pace, the girl raises her head and reveals a small smile, if a bit hesitant and self deprecating. Even the falling sound of rain seems scattered and deliberate.

The world snaps back to normal speed with an alarming snap. The plunking sound of falling raindrops resumes it continuous melody and the cracks of thunder and flashes of lightning occur at equally random moments. Both of the adolescents in our presence know that now is the time to speak, but neither have the desire to do so themselves. Finally, the quite proves too much for the young girl. She asks her first question.

"When you said that you were a shinobi in-training, what exactly did you mean?" The young girl mentally patted herself on the back for the question she came up with. It was neither to inquisitive into this stranger's personal life, nor was it so cliché that it made her seem dense. There was the added plus that she wanted to hear about how other apprentice ninjas preformed. This perfect stranger was a window into the world she couldn't truly know and she'd be damned if she let it slip away from her by sounding foolish.

"What do I mean? Well, I'm a shinobi in-training. I go to the Academy, like you said, with a bunch of other people. There aren't many sensei's there, but they do what they can, I guess. Let's see… They teach those cool ninja techniques, like henge and stuff. They teach us that hand-to-hand combat stuff, too. And some of that weird mind-bendy stuff. Sometimes they do other things, like untying ropes and such. Oh, and the food stinks, too." It was at this point that the girl learned something very important about this newcomer: he was an idiot. Calling genjutsu "weird mind-bendy stuff," just who the hell did he think he was?

"You're not exactly at the top of your class, are you?" The young man gulped. Called out by a complete stranger, there was only so much farther that he could fall. We can see him visibly pushing such negative thoughts to the back of his mind. In their place was a wide grin, almost stupidly large.

"Was it really that obvious?"

"Yeah, it kind of was." The young man's head falls as the words leave the girl's mouth. Ah crap. Oh well, no sense in trying to hide it. Reestablishing his resolve, the young man straightens up and begins to defend himself. I suggest that you place a bag of popcorn in the microwave; this is going to be an interesting show.

"Yeah, you called it. I'm not exactly what you would call 'smart' but that's all relative. Give me a written test and I'll collapse, but give me a brain teaser and I'll solve it in nothing flat!" Confidence is radiating off the young man. He clearly believes the crap that is spewing from his mouth. From the skeptical smirk sported on the girl's face, we can assume that she sees the young man's crap for what it is: crap.

"Any brain teaser, huh?"

"Yep!"

"You have a chicken, a fox, and a bag of birdseed on one side of a river. You need to get everything to the other side, but you boat will only hold yourself and one other. If you leave the chicken with the birdseed, the chicken will eat it. If you leave the fox with the chicken, the fox will eat it. How do you get everything across the river in tact?" If you want the answer, PM either me or, guess who, ranma hibiki. I know the answer, and apparently so does he. I'm assuming ranma hibiki is a guy, but don't hold me to that.

"Ano… It's my turn to ask a question, isn't it?"

"What, the brain teaser master can't solve such a simple problem?"

"No, I can. I just want to ask my question already." Do I really need to explain the crap coming from this young man? To be on the safe side, he is desperately trying to change the subject. His skills at misdirection have much to be desired. In other words, he is failing miserably, and the girl knows it. With a satirical smile, the girl signals for the young man to ask his question.

It is at this moment that the young man realized something: he had no idea what to ask this girl at all! Just moments ago his head had been swimming with questions; who she was, where she was from, why she wanted to know about the academy. That all went out the window as his intellect was brought into question. And why would you need to bring a fox along with a chicken? What was the point?

In a battle of wits, our hero is a dead man.

"Hello? Are you going to ask your question?" The now disillusioned girl was becoming impatient and had no problems showing it. Of course, the only ninja her age that she had ever met just had to be a complete and utter moron. Maybe being home schooled wasn't such a bad thing. Hopefully stupid wasn't contagious…

"Right. My question thingy. Right. So, um… Is there a place here that has dry clothes? Wearing a wet rag and soaked pants is getting kind of old." The girl's eyes widened. It had just clicked that she was soaking wet, too. Add that to the fact that she was wearing thin shirts…

As inconspicuously as she could, the girl looks down and sees, to her satisfaction, that her three shirts are able to protect her from a rather awkward situation. Sure, they showed her figure a little better than she felt they should, but the most important areas were well hidden. She looks back at the boys face to check for the tell-tale red that usually came to a pervert's face, or so her mother had told her. A sigh of relief escaped from her chest as the young man showed no signs of receiving "a free show." Still, she was more than a little self-conscious about being soaked now, not to mention very uncomfortable. Time to play the good hostess.

"Sorry I didn't think of it sooner. Sensei keeps a few sets of workout and recreational clothing in the back. There is probably something that you can fit into. Just follow me." Having spoken, the girl started to move to the back of the dojo at a brisk pace, the young man hot on her heels. We don't need to worry about loosing sight of them, for even if we do, we can simply follow the trail of water they are leaving behind.

However, we will stay with our merry little duo, mainly to receive some entertainment at their expense. For example, the boy's face is slightly flushed with the blush that the girl was trying to hide earlier. Why? What honest to Kami male can walk behind a young girl whose skirt is stuck to her rear and not feel at least a little perverted? Particularly when said female is dripping with water. That is, assuming, that the female in question is legal, or that you are both illegal but still around the same age. Needless to say, this pair falls into the second slot.

"This is the closet. Grab something that you think will fit. We have some rice paper walls over in the corners that we can change behind." Having spoken, the still saturated girl reaches in and grabs some garment as well as a towel and goes behind the rice walls to change. No, we will not be following her, you sick, pedophilic perverts. Or Orochimaru cultist. (If you don't know, don't ask.) Instead, we are to watch as the young man tries to find something to wear that won't make him look like a cross-dresser. Half of the closet was filled with pink robes for crying out loud! Eventually settling on a rather worn gi that was hiding in the back of the closet, Naruto went to his own corner and began to change.

No, we aren't going to look. Do those things on your own time.

Wet clothes were thrown onto walls. Damp towels were soon to follow. Tightening the belt on his borrowed gi, the young man steps out of his sheltered corner. Across the room, the young girl does the same, tightening her own belt before tying her hair back up.

"Are you okay? I mean, you look kind of pale. Did you catch a cold?" The girl looked towards the questioning boy before sighing to herself. How was he supposed to know? Resigning herself, the girl decided to tell him. She moved over towards her spot on the ground, the spot that she always stretched each day she had lessons. As she lowers her self to her knees, she motions for the young man to come join her. He makes his way over to the girl, not quite sure where to sit. Should he sit on her left, her right, or across from her? She offers no aid in the matter, so the young man prays he is doing the right thing and gently seats himself on the girls left, facing the same way and looking out the door, watching the rain fall with its gentle pitter patter.

"I'm not sick. Well, I guess maybe I am. I was born with a weak body. That's why I'm always so pale. It's my body. It's my damn body!" The girl was rolling her hands into fist, grabbing bundles of her robe. Her voice rose steadily, turning into a near shriek come the end. If we move closer, we can she that she is shaking, eyes shut tight, fists clenched. The young man hesitantly moved forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. She filched away from his touch, but seemed to settle down a little.

"Hey, you okay?" The blond boy asked softly. There was a small, uncertain smile on his lips, as if he wasn't exactly sure of what to do. The smile was mirrored on the girls face and equally as hesitant.

"I'm sorry. It's just that every time I think of how weak I am, I just so upset." She sighed to herself again. There was no sense in tell a half-truth. Heart spilling time.

"My dream is to become a strong kunoichi. I'm the only heir to my clan, so I don't want to disappoint them. I'm really good at some things, but because my body is so weak, I couldn't get into the Academy. My father had to go to the Hokage to ask for a special tutor for me. Ever since then, I've been working with my sensei, trying to get stronger. If I work hard enough, I'll be able to do anything. That's what my parents keep telling me. I want to believe them, I really do, but sometimes it just seems so hard. Sometimes I can't help but think that no matter how hard I try, I just won't be able to accomplish my dream." She was stopped from her depressing monolog as she was hit in the back of the head. She turned to the offender, glaring daggers.

"What the hell?" she demanded, not bothering to restrain herself.

"Baka," the young man answered, not bothering to even turn and look at her. This, of course, only served to make her angrier.

"What the hell did you call me?" She was no longer asking, she was demanding. Here she was, pouring out her soul, and he had the nerve to call her a moron!

"I called you a baka because you are one. Only a baka would give up on their dream so easily." This silenced the girl. Quietly, she pulled her legs in and began to hug them. Where was this going?

"If your dream is to become a good ninja, go do it! If you think that you're going to fail, you'll do just that. If it's your dream, then it's not a possibility; it's going to happen. Only a baka expects to fail with her dream." The young man spoke with the voice of sages. The girl stared at the boy who was attack her self-doubt without a second reservation. Was this boy the same idiot that was here only a moment ago?

"Do you work for your dream?" The girl was snapped away from her musings.

"Huh?"

"Do you work for your dreams?" Did she? Did she truly work for her dreams? If we could get inside her mind, we might see the countless memories of her fighting her sensei, jumping, flipping, striking, and pushing herself to her limit and beyond. We could see her spending countless hours with shuriken in hand, aiming at the central red of a bulls-eye. We might even see her sitting in front of her easel, remaking the landscape with great care and a painter's spade.

"Yes."

"Do you as hard as you can, and then some?"

"Yes, I do." The young man smiled brightly.

"Then you'll achieve your dream. If you work for something instead of giving up or waiting for something to happen for you, you'll achieve your dream for sure!" The confidence, the self-assurance, the very self-belief that this boy radiated was nothing short of amazing. This wasn't like her parents or sensei, even though they were saying the exact same thing. When they said it, it seemed more like a formality than anything else. It was just something they said because they felt like they should. This boy though, this boy truly believed what he was saying. It reminded her of the two she had seen earlier, the ones with bowl cuts. They believed they could make the boy there great. This boy believed she could become great. It was a wonderful feeling, knowing that someone truly expected you to succeed.

If we look the girl in the face, we might see the faintest hint of a blush forming.

"Thank you. I really mean that." The girl sheepishly extends her gratitude and the young man is all too quick to accept it. He placed one of his hands on the back of his head and began to scratch it absentmindedly as smiled warmly again.

"Don't mention it." It is at this point in time that we see something beautiful. A single ray of sunlight has broken though the clouds and falls right in the entrance of the dojo. Both present are struck quite with awe as the single beam is joined by another, and then another. Soon, a large beacon of light was shining through the dark, clouded sky and illuminated the whole world for the two young ones. Silently, the young man stood up. His fair hair was shining in the sun light as he turned to the girl.

"Do you mind if I borrow this gi for a bit? I'll bring it by sometime next week if that's okay."

"Huh? Oh… ano… okay, sure…" The girl wasn't exactly thinking completely clearly. The words of this complete stranger were still ringing in the forefront of her mind, repelling anything else that tried to make its way in. As the young man was walking out the door, a thought occurred to the girl. She jumped up and called out to the departing stranger.

"Wait! I never got your name." The blond boy turned his head back, a slightly depressing smile on his lips.

"People don't tend to like me once they know my real name, so please, just call me Hyakunan." Having spoken, the young man turned and ran, the only signs of his presence being the footprints he left behind, the puddles he left in the room, and the thoughts he had left hanging in the girl's mind.

"Try as hard as I can and then some. 'Trouble,' huh. Well then, 'Hyakunan,' I guess I'll see you in a week." The young girl remained standing there, thoughts still weighing heavily on her. We shall leave her to her peace. And thus, good-bye, until another day.


End file.
